Courtship
by Peregrine Vision
Summary: Arranged marriage in this day and age? Not for Mitsui! But he finds that instead of a fiancee, he might have found a friend...
1. In Which Mitsui Receives Alarming News

**COURTSHIP**  
by Peregrine Vision

1 - In Which Mitsui Receives Alarming News

It was like a showdown in an American Mafia movie. Mitsui Hisashi, 19 years old, tense and straight-backed, sitting in an armchair in the living room, facing the man and woman on the sofa across from him. His enemies, on and off for the past seven years. Also his parents. 

Mitsui had never been very close to his parents. When he'd left the basketball team and joined a gang his father had sent him out of the house. He hadn't been formally disowned, but he'd needed to support himself for a while, get a job and his own place. School had been only a minor consideration, which was why he had been left behind a year. 

And now he was back in the team, and Shohoku had clawed its way up the Inter High elimination lists from the very bottom, earning its boys (even the ones who had graduated) a grudging respect from the amateur basketball world. And suddenly he was visible to his parents again. But Mitsui had chosen to stay in his disorganized six-mat apartment near the middle of town, rather than go back to this big expensive house full of unspoken anger. 

Then a call had come last night from his mother. "Please come for dinner tomorrow, Hisashi-kun." 

The whole day Mitsui's hackles had been on end. It was summer break, so there was no school to distract him. He'd spent half the day roaring around on his bike, then went down to the beach and the free basketball court there. This time he hadn't needed to bully anyone to make them clear out. A game with untutored kids wouldn't have been a challenge, but it would have passed the time. But they got one glimpse of Shohoku's notorious three-point scorer and scurried away to a respectful distance, sending out a spokesman to offer Mitsui the ball as if he were some sort of God Of Sports. 

Of course, that was nothing. Imagine if he'd been Rukawa.... 

Well, dinner was challenge enough. He'd spent the meal chewing his tongue while his father went on about looking after his grades and not neglecting them for basketball, look at Akagi-kun, he wasn't accepted by the basketball university but because of his grades he could still choose where to go, you know you've already been left behind a year so you have to scrape together what little opportunity you have left just to make it through, don't rely on basketball all the time....It made Mitsui's teeth hurt. 

Was that all they'd called him for? To lecture him? They could have done that on the phone. But no, his mother had called him. So there had to be something important going on. 

Mitsui watched his parents as intently as he would a marked opponent. His mother looked anxious as usual; his father was uncharacteristically silent, and a little red about the ears and neck, which meant that he wanted badly to burst out with something and was restraining himself. Mitsui put on his "game face" and kept still. And watched. 

Finally he saw that the opening move was up to him. He chose his words carefully, not being particularly good with conversation. "Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" 

"Hisashi-kun...how old are you?" asked his father, with some difficulty. 

What kind of question was that? Strangers asked that question. Then again, this was his father. "Nineteen." 

"Turning twenty next May, am I right?" 

Mitsui narrowed his eyes. "Why? Just tell me what you wanted to tell me." 

His father's face purpled briefly, then slowly returned to its normal shade. After a while he said stiffly, "We've been...thinking...about your future, your mother and I. You'll be graduating this year, and..." 

"And I can look after myself," Mitsui said coolly. "You never worried before." 

"Don't interrupt your father!" snapped Mitsui Koudai. 

_My father, are you? So suddenly?_ thought Mitsui sarcastically, but held his tongue. Between his teeth. 

"We've been searching for...prospects...for you," his father continued. "There are many young girls from good families around, and you need something to settle you down. You're not going to play basketball forever." 

Mitsui kept a straight face, but his eyes proclaimed _I'll try my damnedest._ His father went briefly purple again. 

His mother, who had become experienced at diverting crossfire, began quickly to speak. 

"We've approached friends of ours. You remember the Yamanazukis? They have a daughter about your age." 

A chill shot up Mitsui's spine. And then crawled back down again. 

"The meeting with the matchmaker takes place the day after tomorrow." 

Mitsui leaped to his feet. "You ARRANGED me a MARRIAGE?!?!" 

"How dare you talk that way to your mother!" snarled his father. 

"You've been talking that way to me for my whole life!" Mitsui snarled back. "I'm entitled to a little backlash once in a while!" 

"If you don't know how to behave like a proper Japanese son, the Yamanazukis will never accept you!" 

"GOOD!" 

"We are not asking you to marry her yet," pleaded his mother. "We are only asking you to meet the girl. Please, Hisashi-kun. If you do not at least agree to see her, we will lose face with this family. They are our oldest friends." 

Mitsui glared at her, and then at his red-faced father. He clenched his teeth. Really, at this rate he'd be seeing the dentist as often as he'd once seen the doctor. "What's her name?" he muttered. 

"Tsukiko," muttered his father, in exactly the same sullen tone. 

"I think she's quite suited to you," his mother put in earnestly. 

There was no reason why he should be persuaded to uphold the family honor. No reason except his mother's eyes. However much he resented her, he'd never been able to refuse her. 

He gave an extremely put-upon sigh. "Fine. Give me the time." 

* * * 

"Your parents got you a wife?!" His whole group of friends exploded in laughter, making everyone in the park turn to stare. 

"Shut up," growled Mitsui. 

Hotta was in tears of mirth. "An arranged marriage! Micchan's going to be a pre-ordered groom!" Everybody began to shake with laughter again. 

A hand descended on his hair in a death grip. Sweating, he quailed under Mitsui's deadly stare. "Don't," said Mitsui in a quiet voice, "ever forget who's the leader here." 

The bigger man gulped. "S-sure, Micchan." 

Releasing him, Mitsui heaved a sigh and flopped backward onto the grass. "What the hell am I going to do? I meet her tomorrow!" 

"What's her name?" asked the pale-haired guy. 

Mitsui rolled his eyes. "Tsukiko Yamanazuki." 

One of them whistled. "Sounds rich." 

"Yeah, she is. Or her parents are, anyway." 

"That's okay then, right?" someone else said. "That means you're in clover for life!" Hotta, who knew his friend the best, was quiet. 

Mitsui's dark eyes blazed suddenly as he sat bolt upright. "DO I CARE?!" he yelled, drawing the attention of everyone in the park again. "I live in a six-mat apartment when I could be living in a 28-mat ROOM, with my own car! I'd rather have the apartment and basketball than live in my own house and have to grow up to be a BLUE SUITED CLONE who pushes paper and punches numbers and drinks until he falls over and ogles dancing girls while his colorless wife is waiting for him in a perfectly arranged Japanese home!!!" 

They cringed away from him as he jumped to his feet and stomped off across the park to where his bike was fastened to the fence. He vaulted the bars, unlocked the Kawasaki, jammed his helmet onto his head, threw a long leg over the bike, kicked it into gear and roared off. 

The Kawasaki was his most precious possession, only recently taking the place of his MVP trophy from junior high. Tetsuo had given it to him, a few days after the Inter High. The bike was clean, although Mitsui seriously doubted if the money that had paid for it was as well. But he was touched by the gift, recognizing the rough sentiment behind it. Besides, he'd always wanted a bike of his own, and this one was nearly as big as Tetsuo's. Whenever he was feeling depressed or angry, a long ride always cleared his head and lifted his spirits. Just looking at it made him happy; it was painted with metallic blood red and bone white enamel, and every pipe plated with chrome. 

For this bike alone, he refused to be chained to a traditional Japanese wife--and her traditional Japanese family. Basketball was the greatest reason; he imagined the Yamanazukis' view was just like his parents'. But basketball was at least a respectable pastime, and lucrative. This bike was living, breathing, purring freedom. And as such, an antithesis to everything he was running into with his family. 

His pulse thrummed in his ears like the roar of the bike. _Meet her. That's all I have to do. Then I can walk away._

But somehow he doubted escape would be so easy. 

-end 1- 

All artwork, writings and similar creations on this site © Peregrine Vision. Do not download without notification, or post without permission.

//back to main//


	2. In Which Mitsui Attends An Interview

**COURTSHIP**  
A Motor City Baby Fanfic  
by Peregrine Vision

2 - In Which Mitsui Attends An Interview

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The sun was shining over the seaside district of Shohoku at the height of summer. Birds called, children played, slender-limbed specimens of Japanese youth frolicked along the various beaches and in the parks. All of which were ignored by the intent figure speeding by on his motorcycle, rather a splendid specimen of Japanese youth himself. But Mitsui Hisashi, if he thought of himself at all at that moment, thought of himself as being pushed into premature middle age. It was the day of his meeting with the matchmaker and his prospective in-laws, and he was in no mood to appreciate anything. 

"That isn't fair," muttered Mitsui to himself. His voice sounded funny in his helmet. "Meeting them on _their_ turf for the eliminations--not fair. Not for the first time." 

Then again, it might be something to do with the girl. It wouldn't be fair to make her come to the Mitsui house either; she'd probably be nervous as hell. For the first time, Mitsui wondered what Tsukiko thought about the whole arrangement. His brows drew together. "If she'd let herself be pushed into it, she's got it coming," he muttered, sending his voice bouncing around his helmet again. 

Neutral ground. That's where they should all have met for the preliminaries--on neutral ground. Maybe a nice restaurant. Instead here he was at 4:30 pm on a Saturday afternoon (his favorite time for practice, too) going to the house of a girl he'd never met, to set himself up like some sort of prime side of beef at the market. 

* * * 

The Yamanazuki house was... 

"Huge," he gulped, removing his helmet to stare at the mansion that rose from behind the wrought-iron gate. He'd expected something almost feudal, but this was a modern Western house, such as the upperclass Tokyo citizens liked. There was even an intercom system at the gate, which asked him politely to identify himself when he came close to it. 

"Hisashi Mitsui," he replied, trying not to sound nervous. A security guard opened the gate, eyeing his Kawasaki somewhat unfavorably. Mitsui gave him the evil eye back and carefully locked his bike _outside_, by the gate. It was a ground rule he'd learned from Tetsuo: Always make sure you can make a quick getaway. 

This earned him another eyeball demerit, but Mitsui figured he wasn't taking points from the underlings, so he lifted his chin and strode through the gate. 

The double oak doors of the house were open, and a girl was standing there to welcome him in. 

She was very pretty. In an extremely..._classical_ way. Her hair was black and straight, and fell in a shining stream over her shoulders all the way to her waist. She was dressed in an old-fashioned kimono with gold thread, and sleeves and obi ends that were slightly longer than kimono usually were these days. She had a small, oval face with pink lips and deep doe eyes that looked permanently fixed on the floor. 

Mitsui remembered a book called _The Tale of Genji_ which he'd had to take up in school as the most famous Japanese novel in history, and indeed the first novel ever written in the world. He hadn't found it too interesting. Apparently there had been a prince called Genji who had fallen in love with a lot of women, mostly at the same time. They had almost always been of "delicate, flawless beauty", and were all hopelessly permissive. The only woman Mitsui knew well was Ayako, and if anyone tried that with her, he'd soon be astonished at how much pain the business end of a paper fan could inflict. 

Tsukiko looked just like Mitsui had imagined the Wisteria Blossoms Princess, the mother of Murasaki, to look like: tiny, pale, and soft, like a sweet _mochi_. Something you could just pick up and eat in a few bites, then dust off your fingers. Actually, that was more or less what had happened to her, figuratively. 

_My mother thought this girl would suit_ me? he thought, horrified. _What world has she been living in these days?_

The girl bowed deeply. "Welcome to our house. I pray you will be satisfied with me." 

Mitsui felt a little ill. This didn't sound like a good start. 

It wasn't. 

When the interview was over it was getting dark outside. Mitsui was more than happy to leave; he felt like he couldn't breathe. 

The matchmaker hailed from the old Heian era of fortune-telling love arrangers. She analyzed the couple's birthdates individually and together. Mitsui was a Horse and Tsukiko a Rabbit. He was Fire, she was Air, their auspicious days were this and this, they would do well with a family and also with business (both fathers perked up noticeably at this), but not so well romantically so it would be best if the courtship were brief. At this Mitsui gave her another horrified look, and even Tsukiko's eyes widened. 

The Yamanazakis were like the mirror of his own family; it was the mother that dominated, asked all the intimidating questions. She was a formidable-looking, large woman in a pink woolen sweater set (in summer!) and enough pearls to outfit an oyster farm. It looked as though she'd been as pretty as Tsukiko once, although built larger, but had grown so wide all her features were rather stretched. Her deceptively sleepy-looking eyes missed nothing: not the scar on Mitsui's chin, nor his well-cut but wind-rumpled jersey and slacks, nor the smudge of grease on one of his boots. 

She was also a persistent interrogator. Who were his friends at school, what did he like to do, she heard he had a bike, was that quite safe, wasn't aware he made that high an income, though of course it was nice that he was living independently, blah blah blah... 

And then a rehash of what his father had said about basketball. A nice hobby, it was nice that he was keeping himself fit, but it seemed a waste, he was such a bright young boy and would probably have a wonderful head for business if he wished, it was nice to have a healthy diversion but as he got older it wouldn't be so reliable a thing to fall back on, especially since he'd already been injured once, although that seemed to have healed quite nicely, one never knew, did they? 

"Nice". She used the word "nice" a lot. Also "interesting". And "is that so?" until Mitsui didn't care if he got sent out for a disqualifying foul, he just wanted to grab her by her double-stringed pearls and do something violent. He was intensely grateful for the end of the meeting, and only his pride kept him from having to drag himself over the floor. 

Tsukiko bowed Mitsui out again. "I hope it will please you to return." 

Mitsui desperately wanted to ask her if she spoke that way to her friends or, indeed, if she was allowed to have friends at all. The whole time they had held the meeting she had just sat in a chintz armchair removed from the center of the room, hands folded in her lap, ankles neatly crossed, long-lashed eyes properly downcast. Only when that old goat of a matchmaker had mentioned a speedy courtship had Tsukiko made a tiny start, her eyes going round and frightened. That had told Mitsui what she thought of the arrangement. 

_So why the hell don't you SAY something?_ he'd wanted to yell. Now, looking at the little porcelain doll bowing him out like a nodding Chinese mandarin, Mitsui wanted to shake her by her pretty shoulders until her perfect white teeth rattled in her well-proportioned head. But he couldn't help feeling sorry for her at the same time. At least he knew how to shout, and work, and _take_ things for himself. 

He bowed back a little awkwardly. "Thanks. See you." 

Her eyes widened again, and too late Mitsui realized he'd said "Mata ne", or in other words, "See you _again_". With everything that implied. 

He didn't see his parents into their car. The pleased look that had appeared on his father's face was more than he could stand. He strode down to the gate, gave the guard another evil look just to make himself feel better, and left quickly and in a very disturbed state. 

* * * 

Of course, when in doubt, practice your basketball. That was another of Mitsui's favorite ground rules. He went to the park where he'd told Hotta and the gang about his dilemma; it was a favorite of Shohoku High students, and there was a good-sized court there. He changed his shoes, spent an hour and a half working on his footwork, and another half hour practicing dunks and throws four feet and less away from the basket. Then he stood halfway across the court and just did throws. It was quite dark, and Mitsui was on his twelfth consecutive throw, when he heard footsteps behind him. 

"OI, MICCHI!!!" 

The voice was so like the redhead's that Mitsui spun around, his mouth already framing an ear-scorching tirade on the evils of leaving the sickbed with a protracted injury. But it wasn't Sakuragi. It was Miyagi, laughing fit to burst, leaning on the shoulder of a grinning Ayako. Kogure and Akagi were walking behind them, Kogure smiling broadly, the gorilla rolling his eyes. 

"Eh." Mitsui sighed and sat on his basketball. "I was just going to scold that idiot redhead for leaving the hospital so soon." 

"You're one to talk, eh, Micchi?" chuckled Miyagi. 

"Stop calling me that!" But he didn't even get off the ball to say it. 

Miyagi shrugged. "Can't help it. As annoying as he is, I kinda miss that big dumb Hanamichi." He narrowed his eyes at Mitsui. "Hey, how come you're playing so dressed up?" 

"Blgh," said Mitsui, rolling backward off his basketball onto the concrete. "I don't want to talk about it." Suddenly the day caught up to him, and he felt like an old man. 

"Hey, Mitsui," Kogure put in, coming forward. "Feel like a game? C'mon. You and Miyagi against Akagi and me." 

Mitsui made an indifferent grunting sound and tossed the ball to Kogure. "You guys go ahead. I'm done for the day." 

"You've been practicing here the whole day?" said Ayako, surprised. 

"No, just a couple of hours." Too late he saw his mistake. _Damn damn damn! Should've just said yes. My head's not on straight today._

Akagi frowned. "A couple of hours and you're tired already?" 

Mitsui was sick and tired of being criticized. "Why don't YOU go a few rounds with a prospective mother-in-law, Akagi, and see how bright-eyed and bushy tailed you are afterwards?" 

And that's when everyone said "A WHAT?!" and Mitsui realized that now they'd _never_ leave him alone. 

-end 2- 


	3. In Which Friends Converse

**COURTSHIP**  
A Motor City Baby Fanfic  
by Peregrine Vision

Note: the "My Home Papa" idea isn't mine. Got it from the Yuu Yuu Hakusho Doujinshi in English site on aestheticism.com. 

3 - In Which Information Is Exchanged Between Friends

"....and my father had the most...the most self-satisfied look on his face, and I was _thisclose_ from wiping it off his face with my knuckles, or maybe throwing up, so I had to get out of there and blow off some steam." 

Mitsui threw himself backward onto the grass, just like he'd done the day before. It was funny, but telling people what bothered him...didn't make it go away, but somehow made it bother him a very little bit less. 

Ayako handed him a cold bottle of mineral water. 

"Thanks." 

"Hou..." Stunned, Kogure flopped onto the grass on the other side of him. "So, what are you going to do?" 

"Do? What the hell do you think I can do? I'm not about to marry her, that's for sure!" 

"Poor girl..." murmured Ayako. 

Miyagi was laughing. Mitsui threw the now-empty water bottle at him. "What's so funny, you little twit!" 

The short guardman was laughing so hard he didn't even bother to take offense. "You..." he gasped. "You just...didn't strike me as...a My Home Papa...!" 

"A...My Home Papa...?" repeated Mitsui, blankly. 

Ayako started to giggle, and Kogure to chuckle, and then Akagi began to roar and everyone was rolling on the ground laughing at poor Mitsui, who was now quite red in the face. 

"This is serious!" he yelled. "Will you guys quit laughing! I don't _want_ to be a My Home Papa! I'm not going to be a My Home Papa! I absolutely refuse to be a My Home Papa!" Every time he said "My Home Papa" everyone else fairly screamed with laughter. 

Finally Ayako, gasping, said, "It's not that bad, Mitsui-senpai. These things happen in Japan all the time. It's not like the bad old days where the kids have no say. These days it's the practice to just go out dating a few times, then decide if you want to get married or not." 

"Yeah, they can't force you," Miyagi joined in. "You don't even live with them anymore." 

"What's the girl like?" said Kogure. 

"Eh? Oh...small. A little smaller than Haruko, for instance," he nodded at Akagi, "but with a frail kind of build. And very pretty, with long hair. Like those scroll paintings you see on the walls in restaurants. You know, the ones with geisha and things?" 

He realized everyone was looking strangely at him. "What?" 

"So...what's...the...problem...then...?" asked Miyagi very slowly, the way one would speak to a rather dim child. 

"Are you even listening to me? I'm not just going to date her. They want me to _marry_ her. She hardly talks, except to say things like 'I hope you will be pleased' and 'Would more tea be desired?' and I can hardly see her face for bowing, and I don't even know how she can walk without bumping into things, she's always looking at the floor. How am I supposed to live with someone like that?" 

"Even so--" Kogure was beginning. 

"I know many Japanese boys who--" said Ayako at the same time. 

"And they don't like basketball." 

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh," everyone said, understanding suddenly. 

"But..." Kogure looked confused. "What's wrong with basketball?" 

"The hell I know," muttered Mitsui. "They don't think it makes a reliable career, I guess." 

"I don't suppose they've ever seen you shoot, then," Ayako teased him. Mitsui smiled at her, then made a face at Miyagi, who was giving him a jealous look. 

"And if they don't like basketball, you can imagine what they think of my bike." 

"It's a really cool bike," sighed Miyagi, changing gears abruptly. Mitsui looked at him in surprise, but he was staring over the fence at the Kawasaki, twinkling in the street lights. "I only have a scooter. Where'd you get it?" 

Mitsui grinned. "Tetsuo gave it to me." 

Kogure sat up. "Tetsuo? That...that yakuza-san?" 

"He's not yakuza!" said Mitsui indignantly. "He just belongs to a gang." 

"Not much better, idiot." Akagi was glaring at him. Everybody else was too, even Kogure. 

"Hey, he didn't steal it, okay?" insisted Mitsui, holding up his hands. "I swear. It's clean. Licensed and everything." 

"How did he get it?" asked Ayako suspiciously. 

"It's FINE," Mitsui grated out. "Tetsuo's okay, too. Ask Sakuragi and his troop. He's a decent enough guy in his way. And he's my friend." 

He tore up a piece of turf and tossed it toward them. "Honestly, you guys aren't helping. You sound just like that old woman. Ask me questions when I'm not so tired and pissed off." 

Ayako gave him a sympathetic smile. "All right, then, senpai. Why don't we tell you what _we've_ been up to." 

At that Miyagi began to swell up proudly, like a gamecock ruffling its plumage. Mitsui blinked at him. "What's with you?" 

Kogure chuckled, while Akagi grunted a bit and lay back in the grass. "Miyagi's the new Shohoku captain," said the glasses-man. "Akagi bestowed the honor this morning." 

Akagi grunted, but looked pleased. 

"What?" If they'd expected this news to cheer him up, they were going to be disappointed. "Hey! I thought I was the ace! After you were captain, Akagi, you expect the other teams to take us seriously with this little twerp in the lead?" 

Miyagi leapt over Ayako to land on Mitsui's chest, driving the breath out of him. "Take that back!" They began to scuffle like angry cats. 

WHACK! WHACK! went Ayako's ever-ready paper fan. The two rolled away from each other, clutching their heads. The graduates sweatdropped. 

"Quit it!" she snapped. 

"But, Aya-chan..." whimpered Miyagi, but she waved her fan threateningly and he shut his mouth with an audible snap. 

"Don't be such a baby, Ryota. And Mitsui, if you had any brains left in that worn-out head after today it would occur to you that, obviously, the school board would never allow anyone left behind a year to qualify as captain...no matter how qualified he was otherwise," she added quickly. Mitsui, who had bristled at the mention of his inadequacy, subsided a bit. 

"Besides," she noted, "Ryota's done well for himself this past season. He's fast, and he's good, and he can think for the team as well as himself. He'll do fine." 

Everyone blinked at this unexpected praise. Miyagi turned red, and his eyes went starry. Mitsui watched with something approaching horror as the most ridiculous expression of mindless joy spread across the guardsman's face. 

"Aya-chan...." Miyagi sighed, in his usual wobbly Voice of Absolute Bliss In The Presence Of His Goddess. Mitsui wondered what would happen if one day Ayako actually kissed him. 

_He'd go comatose, probably,_ he thought with amusement, _and in that case I could try being the team captain._

"And what about _that_ problem?" muttered Akagi, jerking a large thumb at the blissed-out Ryota. 

Ayako rolled her eyes. "I'm working on it." 

"Are you still going to barge into our locker room every time you have a juicy piece of news?" Mitsui demanded. "The freshmen will get a nasty shock and never come back." 

"Are you kidding? It totally makes my day, seeing your faces. One day I might even catch you guys in the showers." 

At that EVERYONE went red. "God forbid," muttered Mitsui. 

"If I bring a camera, I could make thousands of yen just for pictures of Rukawa." 

Akagi looked ill. 

"Well, we're counting on you to carry on," said Kogure cheerily, clapping Mitsui on the shoulder with all-too-obvious relief. 

"Deserter," muttered Mitsui. 

They laughed, and talked, and then they all went to have a cheap dinner at a nearby ramen stand in the park. Mitsui couldn't remember ever being this close to his teammates. It was really as though...as though they were all friends. And then he realized that they _were_ all friends, and had been for a while. It was only Miyagi and the older two who'd been mature enough to admit it. 

It felt good to talk to them about something besides basketball. Mitsui hadn't thought there would be any difference, but there was somehow. 

And he liked the change. 

-end 3- 


	4. In Which Ayako Hatches A Plan

Sakebitai! Courtship part 4 

**COURTSHIP**  
A Motor City Baby Fanfic  
by Peregrine Vision

4 - In Which Ayako Hatches A Plan 

"HOT!!!" 

Only half awake but unable to get back to sleep, Mitsui tossed in his damp sheets. He was wearing only boxer shorts, the fan was on and all the windows were open, but the apartment was like a tin box on the burner. 

He flopped onto his stomach like a landed fish. "Argh, I can't stand it!" he growled, stretching. "The joys of summer, my foot." He hauled himself upright and grabbed a towel and a fresh pair of shorts that hung on a clothesline above his bed. "I need a shower." 

Like all the smaller apartments in the compound, Mitsui's apartment had no bathroom. In other words, he had to use the common washroom on his floor if he needed to go to the toilet. For a shower or bath the 6-mat apartment owners had to go downstairs and round the corner to the public bath. It wasn't too bad; this was common practice in Japan, especially in the cities. Japanese bathing was a social event, and Japanese citizens adjusted accordingly. 

Mitsui grabbed the small basket of bathroom stuff from its place on the coffee table, wrapped the towel round his waist and went out, not bothering to lock up. He never did. 

This was Mitsui's habit. During school days he always used the school showers, but this was summer, and so every day, sometimes twice a day, he went downstairs and round the corner for a nice cold shower. On days when he'd practiced particularly hard, he had himself a long soak in hot water as well, to soothe his muscles. It was something he'd always done, as long as he'd lived in that apartment. 

Which was why he was so shocked when he turned the corner and walked right into Ayako. 

She was wearing a light summer dress that would have left Miyagi on the ground, bleeding gently from the nose. Her hair was down instead of in its usual cap and ponytail. She looked rather pretty, not much like the tough team manager. 

But all Mitsui could see was the bath basket and towel she carried. 

"Wh-Wh-WHAT are YOU doing here?!" 

Ayako looked surprised. "Mitsui-senpai! Do you _live_ near here?" 

"Around the cor--" Mitsui was painfully aware that he was only wearing a pair of boxers and a towel over them. Well, at least it wasn't just the towel. Not since the time it had fallen off while he was heading home. "Do...YOU live here?" 

"A couple of blocks away, with my family." Ayako laughed. "Our water's cut out for some reason, and I wanted a shower, so..." She smiled winsomely, but her sharp eyes traveled downwards. 

Mitsui turned bright red. He wanted to snatch the towel to his chest like a girl caught undressing in a comedy show. "Will you quit that? It's embarrassing." 

"Sorry," she said, grinning. "Force of habit. Shall we go together?" 

They fell into step as they entered the bath, just far enough away that they didn't look like they were _with_ each other. Men and women never went on dates to bathe. That would be...creepy. 

"Miyagi's not around, is he?" Mitsui asked, wincing. The last thing he needed was that guy turning up when he was half-dressed anywhere near Miyagi's precious Aya-chan. 

"No." Ayako sighed and rolled her eyes. "Can we not talk about it?" 

He shrugged. "Fine. Wasn't expecting company anyway." 

Ayako giggled. "Consider yourself lucky it's not a unisex bath." 

The thought gave Mitsui the cold creeps. 

* * * 

Men and women bathed in opposite wings of the building (thankfully) so Mitsui had his shower in peace. He wouldn't have put it past Ayako to yell a conversation over a separating wall. Really, that girl was way too familiar with the team. 

He scrubbed and showered quickly, but when he got out she was already there in that pretty dress, smiling her savvy smile. Sometimes he had to wonder if she had some kind of special power. 

"I have an idea," she said brightly. "I always get the best ideas while I'm in the bath." 

"Thank you," said Mitsui sourly. Now it would take all morning to get rid of that image. And how had she found the time to take a bath? "And what do you mean, an idea?" 

"For getting Tsukiko-san out of her house." 

"Oh, it's Tsukiko-san already, is it?" 

"Don't be so sarcastic. I feel sorry for her. She obviously needs to get out more." 

Mitsui _tsk_ed under his breath. "I just hope the shock doesn't kill her." 

"Can't you _try_ to be nicer?" 

"What idea is this, anyway? And what makes you think I'm going to do it? I'm not spending any more time with Lady Wisteria Blossoms than I have to." 

"Lady who?" 

"Lady Wisteria Blossoms. You know, like the story." 

Ayako still looked blank. Somewhat embarrassed, Mitsui had to explain about the Genji story while they were walking out. 

They had reached the corner when Ayako laughed. 

"What?" 

She elbowed him playfully. "I guess," she said, "that that makes you Prince Genji." 

Mitsui's mouth fell open. Finally, he managed to say, "Eyucch." 

"Well, my house is off this way. I'll need to work on this idea for a while. I'll see you around then, Genji-senpai." With a cheerful wave she strode off across the street, leaving Mitsui in his towel on the sidewalk. 

"That's disgusting!" yelled Mitsui after her. "And WHAT damn idea?" 

But either she didn't hear, or (more likely, thought Mitsui) she pretended she didn't. Clutching his towel in one hand and his basket in the other, Mitsui went down his street, muttering imprecations on all womankind, one feisty team manager and one Lady Wisteria Blossoms in particular. 

* * * 

His mother called that evening. Apparently Yamanazuki-okaasama wanted them to come to dinner at the bride's residence that Tuesday night. 

"The WHAT?" 

"Their house, she means." 

Mitsui set his teeth. "I know that, Mother. What I'm asking is why you're already calling that girl 'the bride'." He wasn't even going to mention "Yamanazuki-okaasama". 

"Hisashi," said his mother, her voice falling into the all-too-familiar "how could you treat your poor mother this way" tone. "Your father and I are getting old. We have no other children, and can have no other children. You are not just our only son, you are our only child. It is our cherished dream to hold grandchildren in our arms before we die." 

Your _cherished dream, maybe_, thought Mitsui, his ears aflame. Only mothers could be this embarrassing. He was only in high school, for crying out loud! Who on earth wanted to have children at this age? 

"Tsukiko-chan is a sweet, polite and highly accomplished young girl. In fact Yamanazuki-okaasama tells me that she is to cook Tuesday's meal with her own hands. It's hard to find such girls these days." 

_Well, yes, that's because they've gotten smarter since the bad old days._ But it was useless to voice his opinion where his parents were concerned, so he settled for leaning back in bed and rolling his eyes. 

"Your father is a very close friend of Yamanazuki-san's. They've been friends since they met at business college. It would make your father very happy if you and Tsukiko-chan married. Then you and your children could take ownership of Yamanazuki-san's company." 

"That's just the point, Mother!" said Mitsui, thoroughly annoyed by now. "Getting married wouldn't 'make my father happy'. He'd just tell me to do it and expect it to be done. It's not a life change for him, it's just another business merger. You know what he's doing? He's selling off his only son. No, his _only child_." He imitated his mother's voice, out of pure spite. "And your friends aren't any better. They brought their daughter up to be a servant, and they expect her to be that way for the rest of her life. That's not marriage, that's slavery. We're not even of legal age to marry yet!" 

"Hisashi." The voice on the other tone was considerably chilled. "I'm sorry to hear you take such a poor view of your parents' concern, and our efforts to provide you with a future. Perhaps it would surprise you to learn how many other young people would be grateful for this arrangement, especially after abandoning their education and their duties for so long, and insisting on choosing to pursue a hobby beyond sensible limits." 

That was the final straw. Mitsui's eyes narrowed, and he gripped the phone hard as he hissed, "All right. You know what? You asked me a favor. I gave it. It's over. You're no longer supporting me, and I don't owe you anything. You can just go to that dinner without your son. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not your son anymore." 

"Hi-Hisashi!" cried his mother. "How can you say that!" Her voice trembled alarmingly, all the chilliness gone. "Please, don't say such things. I apologize." 

Mitsui blinked. "What?" 

"I'm sorry. You are still my son. I am only doing this because I love you, and I miss you, and...and I am so worried..." 

She wasn't saying "we". She, personally, his mother, loved him, and missed him, and worried about him.... 

In any other case, he would have thought it horribly manipulative of her, and perhaps it was. But she never talked of her own feelings. She always talked in conjunction with his father, as if she herself was just an extension. She hardly ever used the word "I". And even if she was being manipulative, the feelings themselves must be sincere. That definitely counted for something. 

_Ah, shit. I'm going to give in again, I just know it._ Mitsui sighed. 

"Don't cry, Mother. I'll go." 

"Oh, Hisashi-kun, I'm so glad." He heard a sob, and then the faint sound of a nose being discreetly blown. "Thank you." 

Uncomfortable with this rare show of emotion, Mitsui muttered, "All right. What time is it, anyway?" 

After getting the time, and having a brief argument over taking his bike to the Yamanazukis, Mitsui hung up and lay back in his futon. He stared up at the clothes strung up over his bed. 

Closet space was limited, so he hung the extra clothes on a nylon line over his futon. He slept on the floor like any other Japanese, so there was still a bit of head room, if he didn't sit up too straight. The view from the bed, though, was like an interior designer's nightmare. Mitsui didn't really care; he usually had other things to think about. 

He _really_ didn't want to see that family again. The more he saw of them, the closer that brought him to an actual engagement. That was the last thing he wanted to think of. 

_Why_ had his parents suddenly decided to get him engaged? Why _now_, when it was his last school year and his last chance both of being the Inter High champion and an actual graduate? Was there a special reason, or were they just taking the parents' privilege of rearranging his life without consulting him? 

Not for the first time, he wondered how Tsukiko could just lower her eyes and take it in the teeth, as it were. It was bad enough for him, and he was going to get to be the boss. Tsukiko was resigning herself to a lifetime of bending to someone else's will, cooking their meals, washing their clothes... 

Bearing their children... 

Mitsui gulped, and went red again. That, he DEFINITELY didn't want to think about. 

He picked up the remote to the small Sony television at the foot of his bed and flipped through channels for a while, to distract himself. Just when he had found a good program, though, the phone rang again. He rolled his eyes and reached for it. "Moshi moshi." 

"Ne, Genji-senpai." 

"Wh--" he sat up, his head brushing the various articles of clothing that hung over his bed. "AYAKO? HOW did you get this number?" 

She made a little "tch" sound with her tongue. "Basketball club records, of course. As the team manager I need to reach the team any hour, on the hour." 

"I'm sure you do," he replied, with all the sarcasm he could muster. 

"Now, now, Genji-senpai. You know the Firefly Festival is coming up, right?" 

"What? What festival?" 

"Oh, for goodness' sake, you boys are all the same. I expected you, at least, to know. But apparently, outside the basketball club, the world doesn't exist." 

Mitsui grinned. "Is it supposed to?" 

"Idiot. Listen! It's this weekend. I want you to get Tsukiko-san's parents to let her go out with us." 

"Who's us?" 

"Me and Haruko-chan and her friends, Ryota, and probably Akagi-senpai and Kogure-senpai. You can say it's a group date; they'll probably like that. I just want to meet that girl, get her out of the house, find out what she's like. She sounds interesting. I talked to Haruko-chan and she wants to meet her too." 

Mitsui privately thought that Lady Wisteria Blossoms wasn't interesting at all. But he could never understand why girls did certain things; it was usually best to leave them alone. "Fine. We're having dinner with her family tomorrow night; she's cooking it herself, would you believe. I'll try and ask then." 

"Okay, thanks, senpai. Not knowing when the Firefly Festival is, honestly. At least Ryota knows." 

"Asked you out, huh?" 

Mitsui congratulated himself. Embarrassment radiated from the phone. If it could have blushed, it would have. Time to get a little of his own back. 

"Look," he said. "It's no business of mine, but this Lady Wisteria Blossoms thing is no business of yours either, so I figure all's fair between club-mates. You obviously like Miyagi, and he just about worships the ground you walk on. So why do you insist on squelching him at every opportunity?" 

"I, I don't squelch him!" 

"You do. You put him down all the time. He can't ask _anybody_ out because of you. Red head actually told me, with tears in his eyes, mind, that he felt _sorry_ for Miyagi. And this is the notorious guy who's been rejected by FIFTY girls, according to those friends of his. So if _he_ feels sorry for Miyagi, I can't imagine what you're doing to the poor shortypants." 

"I'm not doing anything!" This was the first time he'd ever heard Ayako on the defensive. She sounded surprisingly upset. "It's his own fault! I never asked him to turn into a useless cow-eyed idiot every time I show a little encouragement. It's so..._stupid_! He's so good when he's concentrating; he can keep his eye on six different people at once and still think three minutes ahead of everyone. But he gets so _hung up_, and it just makes me _mad_! You'd think he'd have learned by now how not to distract himself!" 

"But he only knows basketball, Ayako," Mitsui said, with all the detached sensibility only someone on the outside could have. "It's girls he doesn't know. And he really likes you. What's wrong with that?" 

"You're just as dense; you'll never get it. Isn't it obvious, senpai? He's so much better when I'm _not_ around. He's smart, and funny, and brave, and...and unsquelchable. But I just talk to him and that sexy guardsman is replaced by a babbling idiot who doesn't know any words except 'Aya-chan...'" She sighed. "I can't take it. I don't want to let him know how I feel until he gets over that stupid habit." 

There was a long pause as Mitsui, with great difficulty, tried to fold his head around the idea of that short twerp as a "sexy guardsman". He couldn't manage it. 

"Senpai?" 

"I give up. We'll figure something out." 

"We?" 

"Sure." Mitsui smiled into the phone. "You're helping me with my problem, right? Or I hope you are. So I'll try and help you with yours." 

"Really?" You couldn't put more surprise into Ayako's tone if you used a shovel. 

"One thing at a time. Firefly Festival, right? So...when's that?" 

"This Saturday. The local shrine is hosting it." There was a pause, then she said, "Thank you, senpai." 

"Whatever." 

And it was only when he hung up that he realized he'd just been coerced into spending _more_ time with Tsukiko, plus he'd promised to help Ayako with _her_ love life. He groaned and fell back into the futon. 

"I just want to enjoy my summer!" 

-end 4- 


End file.
